


244 - Making Van Healthier, Self-Care Van, & Makeup Artist Reader

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Cute meet, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 17:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17390318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “Could u do a cute fic where the reader has a subtle positive impact on vans life like he’s eating better/healthier or smoking less or even where she/he gets him into a skin care routine. Idk man I think about this a lot and can just imagine the look on the rest of the bands faces as he brags about drinking a green smoothie for breakfast and how his skin has never felt so smooth. In other words, self-care van.” and “I have this idea off of that line from Beyoncé ‘when he fuck me good I take his ass to red lobster’ Like without the smut if you’re not feeling that part but like a post sex meal with van full of fluff and jokes and teasing?” and “Can you do one where y/n is a makeup artist and she’s dating Van and its getting serious but no one understands their relationship because from the outside she looks so glamed up but she’s more like Van than people think”Bonus mini request for anti-smoking themes.





	244 - Making Van Healthier, Self-Care Van, & Makeup Artist Reader

The bus was late and with a grey sky threatening rain, you were beginning to feel agitated. As each minute ticked by, you calculated and re-calculated the time you'd arrive at the party. When that activity was deemed too stressful by your racing heart, you breathed out and tried to distract yourself by pulling your phone from your pocket and flicking through Instagram. 

That is when you discovered the horrible and unbelievable fact that you had forgotten to charge your phone after work. 14% wasn't going to last the night. It wasn't enough to take photos of your friends. It wasn't enough to be set to shuffle and hooked up to the aux cord. It simply was not enough. Fuck. Fuck everything. 

A clap of thunder and you were sure it was about to pour down in some poetically tragic moment. But then, the bright headlights of the bus shined around the corner and you stood, ready for boarding.

The bus was packed with people on their way home from their daily grinds. You looked out of place, dressed for a party. As you made your way down the aisle, you resigned to having to stand and hold a pole for balance. Then, a guy was standing and holding his hand out in presentation of his newly vacant seat.

"Here you go, love," he said.

Normally, you'd decline. You weren't pregnant, sick, or elderly. Chivalry is sexism masquerading as charm. But, your shoes were killing you and sitting down you could properly feel sorry for yourself. Quickly, you smiled at him and took the seat. He moved to stand where you were, holding the pole.

"Thank you," you offered, with a smile. He smiled back. Dimples. Actually, more than dimples. Galaxy freckles and clear summer sky blue eyes. He was beautiful.

"No problem. Those shoes don't look too comfy," he replied. You chuckled.

"You're not wrong. Got a party though, so have to dress up," you told him.

"Well, you look lovely, so…"

You didn't want to blush. You didn't want to bite your lip and look away and play the role of the pretty girl on the bus that was saved by a boy. But, it happened.

"Thank you. It's a new dress, so I'm super excited to wear it. And I got this new primer stuff that's got glitter in it and I got to use it for the first time, so that's good too." You'd never been good at just accepting a compliment graciously. You'd always ramble out explanation. You were the girl that said 'it's got pockets!' when someone said 'nice dress.'

"What's primer?" the guy asked. His head tilted to the side and he looked genuine in his curiosity.

"Makeup. You put it on your skin before everything else to make your skin all smooth and stuff. Keeps the makeup on good," you replied. He nodded but said nothing else. So, you asked without thinking, "Do I look sparkly?"

The guy grinned, then looked around the bus quickly. Nobody seemed to notice the adorable exchange happening between two strangers. He crouched down, which made you smile. He was close, and he looked at your face carefully.

"Go like this," he ordered and moved his head side to side in demonstration. You copied the movement. He nodded. "Yep. The light catches it. You look like a fairy or something," he reported as he stood back up. You beamed.

"Yeah? Thank you!"

"You're welcome, love."

One last smile and you turned your attention to your phone. You turned the battery saving function on and the brightness down low. It was all you could do, other than dramatically sigh. So, you did that too. A small huff of laughter from the guy. You looked up at him.

"Are you laughing at me?" you asked. He shrugged. "My phone's about to die, okay? It's very bad because I made the best playlist and nobody I know listens to good music,"

"What you got on the playlist?" There was a look on his face that you'd seen before. He expected shitty pop music. But he was wrong and a conversation began.

And that is how you met Van. You had stepped off the bus at the same stop and talked about everything and anything all the way to the front step of your friend's house. It was only then you looked at him in confusion.

"That wasn't your stop,"

"Nah. Nah, it wasn't. But ah, it's alright. I'll get where I'm going," he replied with a flirtatious smile.

An exchange of numbers and a couple of dates later, you were well and truly smitten with Van, and he with you.

…

"I can smell that from here," Van said from his place on the windowsill. He exhaled out into the dusk sky and you winced at the act of self-destruction.

"Smells good, right? Better than that," you replied. Van smirked and nodded.

"Yeah, I know, I know. Told ya I'd cut back,"

"Don't use that tone with me, Mister. I didn't make you do anything. Never once told you what to do," you said with a huff as you sat on the couch. Your face mask was homemade and smelt of fruit and clean.

"Guess you're just a good influence then," Van said as he put his smoke out and came to sit next to you. With his head leaning back on the couch, he rolled it to look at you. You watched his eyes flick over your face and study the green of the mask.

"Got some left if you want?" you asked. He thought for a second, stood up without reply, and left the room. He returned quickly with the bowl you'd left on the kitchen bench.

A happy squeal and you pulled your legs up onto the couch to sit cross-legged. He'd made you happy and it made him happy. Gently, you used your fingers to paint the mask onto his face.

"S'cold," he mumbled.

"Good cold?"

Van nodded and closed his eyes, resting back onto the couch. The picture of comfort, really. You stood to put on music, and with your tastes perfectly aligned to Van's, you were secure in the fact whatever you picked would be appreciated by him.

The television would stay off that night. Just music and each other's quiet movements. After you washed the masks away, you stayed in the lounge until dawn broke. Soft kisses, hushed whispers.

When the room became too bright, you followed Van into the bedroom. After a few hours of sleep, you were both up again.

"My skin feels all smooth," he said. You reached out and held his face in your heads. Van reacted quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist and keeping you close.

"Mmm-hmmm. Nice, isn't it?"

"How do I keep it like this?"

"Well… moisturiser and stuff. Wash your face with proper products. What do you use now?"

You'd slept at his place a couple of times, but it made more sense for him to come to you. He was already adapted to sleeping wherever and without his own belongings surrounding him. You were not. You had routine and structure and felt overwhelmingly uncomfortable without all of that. 

The shower at Van's was what you'd expected; it was shampoo and conditioner for 'normal' hair types and a body wash that claimed to be especially designed 'for men.' You had rolled your eyes every time you'd seen it. It did smell good though, and it reminded you of Van. There was no cosmetic face wash. How he didn't have more acne was a mystery to you.

"Nothin'," Van replied. You nodded.

"I'll get you some stuff if you want? Keep you glowing and pretty,"

"Like you."

You laughed hard. "Smooth, babe. Real smooth. Now let me go. Breakfast time," you said, crawling out of his tight embrace.

…

It normally took you a solid amount of time to get ready. It was part ritual. The makeup. The hair. The outfit. It made you feel good and like yourself. A fun way to start any special night. And that night was very special. It was one of Van's friend's birthday. Some guy named Jimmy that Van spoke of with such fondness that you felt a little in love with him too, by default. It would be the first time meeting some of Van's friends.

He was one of those people with lots of circles of friends. He had his band and people associated with that, and they seemed to be the really important ones. Then, there were childhood friends, the people he wasted time with in high school before dropping out. There was some overlap with bandmates there. Then, there were a few other groups he'd fell into in adulthood. Regardless of which group they belonged to, where he'd met them, or how long he'd known them, Van loved his friends unconditionally. It was one of his best qualities.

"Fuck, Y/N. You're a goddess! Look at ya!" Van beamed when you opened the door to your place. He was hardly dressed up at all. The usual boots, jeans, button up and a jacket. At least it was his nice velvet one. You, on the other hand, had taken three hours to look the way you did. Like a goddess, according to Van.

"Is it too much?" you asked as you checked to make sure everything you needed was in your bag.

"Nah. Course not. Whatever makes ya feel good," Van replied with a shrug. "Can you just stop doin' that for a second though, so I can take a proper look?"

Looking across the room, he was standing with a stupid grin on his face. You walked to him and let him twirl you under his arm.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, babe. Very yes."

…

"Do you know all these people?" you whispered to Van.

"Nah. A few, but not really. Why?" Van answered.

You shrugged.

Jimmy's birthday was held at a restaurant, and his reserved table was a long rectangular shape. You sat next to Van and listened to him talk to the 'few' people that he did know. His arm was around you and despite his constant attempts to involve you in the conversation, you felt out of place. Then, a waiter came around to take orders. Van went first, ordering the steak special, and you followed with a salad.

"Never thought date the fake lashes, salad type," one of Van's friend said. You went to reply with the fact that you weren't actually wearing fake lashes, but had just layered a few different brands of mascara. It seemed like the type of statement to only prove their point though.

Van seemed unaffected by the comment. Maybe he interpreted it differently to you. "She's the listens to good music and is a good lass type," he said.

"You listen to the same music?" another asked. Her face read as unconvinced. Van nodded in response though.

"What kind of music does it look like I listen to?" you responded. Your tone didn't come out as benignly fun as you wanted it to.

"Oh, I don't know. Top 50 stuff. Whatever's in the charts these days," she said.

"Heard your band got in the charts, actually," Van said with a smirk. The group of people made little 'ohhhh' sounds and laughed.

"What do you do, Y/N?" the 'fake lashes, salad type' one asked. Your answer of makeup artist seemed to amuse him and the others.

The dinner rolled on and you became increasingly more apprehensive to leave Van's side. He was good at defending you, but his quick quips and assurances of love didn't really tell them to stop. He played the game as much as they did, and in the end the only loser was going to be you.

Maybe you and Van were too different. Maybe, despite the chemistry and fluffy feelings and itching for each other's bodies, you needed to find people that looked the part too.

You were quiet in the car home and wondered why Van wasn't saying anything about it, or about your silence. When he parked in the carpark out the back of your apartment block, instead of just pulling up out front to drop you off as planned, you looked over at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Stayin' over," he answered simply, getting out the car. You followed him around the corner and into the building.

"But you have that thing tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah. I can wear this. It will be fine," he said.

You chewed your lip and thought for a second. "Van, I'm not, like… in the mood."

Almost at your apartment, Van stopped in the hall and turned back to you. His expression was very much one of concern. "Love, come 'ere," he ordered, arms open. You quickly stepped into him and let him rock you side to side. "You know I think me and you are good for each other, right?"

Suddenly, out of nowhere, you felt very, very upset. The weakest of nods and you stepped away from Van and unlocked the door. You immediately went to the bedroom, where you stripped out of the dress and heels and climbed into bed.

Half an hour later, when you had time alone to process, there was a knock on the door.

"Y/N?" Van's whispering voice cut through the darkness of your bedroom. "Love?" You didn't want to talk about what had happened, but you wanted Van. You made the smallest of sounds, enough to let him know you were awake and willing to interact. He turned the bedside lamp on, a pro at navigating your house without light. He'd spent enough time there. "So, I, ah, I saw the bag on the table. That stuff for me?"

You looked up at him. It was a good strategy. "Yeah," you whispered.

"Yeah? Is it all for in the morning, or is some of it, like, bedtime routine or somethin'?"

Van knew that you knew what he was doing, but that awareness didn't void the effect. You got up and lead him back into the brightly lit part of the house. Sitting at the small dining table, you showed Van all the products you'd bought for him. Explained what they were for, what they'd do for him. He nodded and watched you intently, very determined to remember everything he was learning.

"Should we go get ready for bed then?" he asked when you stopped talking. You nodded, still moving slow and sad. "Come on, love." He kissed your head as he lifted you from the chair and pulled you by the hand to the bathroom.

Van did what he did best in front of the bathroom mirror. He acted like a human puppy dog in order to make you laugh, and laugh you did. "Van!" you squealed. "Don't fucking waste it! You only need a pea size!"

"A pea size?!" he repeated in a high pitched voice. "Pea size, is it?!" He cackled with laughter, but still complied and used the product as directed.

When you were both clean and shiny, you sat side by side on the couch. Van turned the television on and chucked you the remote before disappearing into the kitchen to presumably make tea.

"The herbal sleepy tea!" you yelled after him.

There was nothing good on. It was too late at night. You found a re-run of Stargate and left it at that. You'd always had a bit of a crush on Daniel Jackson.

Van returned and put the two mugs on the table. Usually, you'd have sleepy tea at night while he stuck with the regular black. Usually. He noticed your eyes lingering over the mugs.

"Figured if I'm spending all this time on my skin, might as well do a bit of a good for the inside too, huh?" he said as he picked up his mug of sleepy tea. You beamed.

"Why's yours a different colour though?" you asked, looking over the rim of his then yours. Van's was a deeper colour than yours, more yellow.

"I put mega amounts of honey in mine. Gotta have somethin', you know?”

You laughed and nodded. "Honey is a natural sweetener, so that's okay,"

"You're a natural sweetener," Van quickly replied. You laughed again and settled into your place.

After a while, after the day was saved and SG-1 returned to Earth, Van became unsettled. He had something to say and you just waited for it to burst out of him. The fingers of his right hand were threaded through those of your left. He wriggled them, pulling your attention to him.

"What?"

"Uh… I just… I'm sorry,"

"You don't have to be sorry, Van. You didn't do anything," you said.

"I just. No. I am sorry. Should've said more or somethin'. And I don't want you to think that I think we're too different, 'cause we ain't." There was a hint of desperation in his voice, like he'd been threatened with a break up. That was something you'd never, ever do, because he was right. You weren't too different. Not at all.

"I know. You don't need to say… I don't know. It's okay. I'll be okay."

Van nodded, entirely unconvinced but unsure of any direction he could turn in other than acceptance. He'd keep thinking about it though.

…

"What?" Van asked the table when they were all looking at him with expressions of mild shock. He was the last to order and when the waiter asked if he wanted the salad or the fries, he opted for the salad. It was an incredibly un-Van McCann thing to do. You held back a grin and waited for him or someone to say something. "Figure if I have the salad, I can have like, chocolate cake for dessert, see," he explained. Nobody was convinced. It wasn't like Van to think through his meals like that.

"You're a good influence, then," Mary said to you. "That boy hasn't had a piece of lettuce in his whole life,"

"That ain't true! Just gotta be the right lettuce. Only like the iceberg one," Van said in defence of himself.

"And he knows types of lettuce! What next!" Mary continued with a very pleased smile on her face.

"I smoke less too. Pack lasts me a couple'a days now, maybe three or four, 'stead of just one," Van said. You could see the pride on his face and in the way he sat up straight and puffed his chest out.

"Well, then, my boy, seems like you've found ya one," Bernie said, then took a long sip of his drink.

You'd met them before, Mary and Bernie, and it had always been nice, but even in them you could see the hint of scepticism. Van had never brought home a girl so made up. They'd never been a girl with fake eyelashes and high heels. They didn't get it. But, over time, and when your influence was so evident in their son's healthy glow, they got it. They listened to you and him banter on about music and films and everything. "Cut from the same cloth," Bernie put it.

It wasn't like you needed permission or overt acceptance from Van's parents to be his girlfriend, but fuck, once you had it you wondered what you would have done without it.

…

"Could try vaping instead," Bondy quipped. You giggled but Van just looked at him deadpan.

"He's on them fuckin' health smoothies now, so he may as well jump on that bandwagon too," Larry added.

"Mate, look. They ain't just health smoothies. It's like. All the fruit and vegetables I'm meant to eat, but in one go. Without even trying! I'm dead healthy and I don't have to do a thing," Van said.

"This your work?" Bondy asked you. You shook your head.

"She don't even like smoothies. Tried to get her to have one and she wouldn't even try it,"

"It's just glorified baby food," you said. Bondy laughed.

"So, do we need to plan the accommodation around all this now? Change the tour plans?" Mike asked. "Need a bigger bathroom for all your stuff?" You laughed at that too. Van's ever-growing collection of skincare products would soon rival yours.

"Fuck off. You're just jealous that you're not looking as good as me," Van said with a frown. You reached out ran your hand through his hair. Instinctively, he pushed his head back into your hair for more pats, like a cat would.

"You do look good. Probably the healthiest I've ever seen you. Since you were a kid, really," Benji added. He was watching Van with a tilt of the head, carefully assessing the situation before offering an opinion.

"I think Y/N's good for him. Should bring her," from Bob. He was on your other side on the couch in the record label office. You smiled at him and bumped your shoulder into his.

"Can you sing? We can just kick Van out to go start a gym and you can be in the band," Bondy said.

…

"I like them," you announced as soon as you were in Van's car after the tour planning meeting, after meeting the band for the first time.

"Yeah, you would," he mumbled.

"Oh, Van. Don't be such a baby. You should be happy that they like me,"

"They like you more than they like me!" he replied in that high pitched tone. You laughed.

"Awww, poor baby. Not everyone's favouritest person in the whole wide world," you said in a mocking tone.

"Yeah, yeah. You just watch it, little miss. When you do come visit on tour, you ain't gonna be buddies with them all. Gonna find their rancid fuckin' underwear everywhere. One toilet on the bus. Not gonna be all fluttery eyelashes at Bond then, huh?"

"I like you when you're jealous," you said with a shrug. You watched the corners of Van's mouth twist into a smirk and the sparkle in his eye twinkle in response to all the fun.

"Seriously though, love. They do like you. I told ya they would. Never mind those others, huh?"

"Already forgotten,"

"Good. Home?" he asked, to which you nodded, flicked on the radio and put your feet up on the dashboard.

…

There were only a few days before Van was due to leave for tour. Part of you was worried; you knew you'd miss him a lot and knew it would be hard. It would be unlike any other relationship you'd experienced. It was hard to predict how you'd really react and feel when he was really gone. The other part of you though, the self-assured part, was a bit excited. 

You'd been living in Van McCann Lalaland since you'd met him. It had only been a couple of months, but fuck, had it been intense. With him out taking on the world, you were free to pick up more jobs, see your friends a bit more, and you planned on going around to Mary and Bernie's and helping them with the garden. You were gonna be okay, but you were still going to milk it for all it was worth.

"Aw, so sad. So, so sad," Van laughed, poking your cheeks and turning your pouty frown into a smile. "Want me to cheer you up?" You nodded. "I can… I can make you one of them banana and honey masks like you showed me, or… or I can make you a smoothie?"

"Fuck you,"

"So rude! You're the one that got me into it all… Okay… um… I can… play with ya hair like you like,"

"Mmm, getting closer," you said with a smirk.

Van pulled you into his lap. You were lounging around on his bed. You had come over to help him pack, but you both got distracted by each other's presence too easily for that. He started to rake his fingers through your hair, pulling on it gently and making movements like he was braiding it, but he didn't actually know how to do that.

"Closer to what?" he asked.

"Closer to figuring out what I want,"

"Oh, babe. I know what you want. I'm just messin' with ya," he said with a laugh.

"I hate you," you replied, looking up at him as he continued to gently drag his nails along your scalp. It sent shivers all across your body.

"You don't. You love me. Proper love. We're like, soulmates I reckon. Larry reckons too,"

"You been talking to Larry about us?"

"I talk to Larry 'bout everythin'. He always just gets it, you know what I mean? And he gets us," Van said, pointing from himself to you and back again a couple of times. "Says we make sense,"

"That's good. I like Larry,”

"He likes you too. Everyone does. Everyone important does," Van replied, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "Now, love. About that thing you wanted." And he sent you into a fit of giggles. Death by tickling.

The tickling hands began to move more slowly. They began to trace random patterns across your stomach, across your thighs. It was only around four in the afternoon when it started. Van's bedroom was brightly lit by the sun shining through the window. As the hours passed, the room got darker and darker, but neither of you really noticed. You were focused on Van's hands and Van's mouth and Van's hips. He was focused on your everything, on making you believe as much as he did that you were one and the same. And that he'd miss you while he was gone. And that he was in love with you. All the said and unsaid things turned into ecstatic motion.

When you were both too exhausted for more, you slid apart and both laughed.

"Oh my god," you said on a breath out.

"Yeah?"

"Very yeah," you replied, rolling over to face him. "Thank you."

Van laughed hard. "Thank you?! Don't think nobody's thanked me before,"

"Well, maybe you've just never fucked someone that hard before?"

Again, Van laughed. "Fuck, babe. That's gotta be the most dirty thing you've ever said,"

"Really? Huh. That's disappointing," you replied.

Van rolled over to you and pulled you in close. "Ain't anything disappointing about you. You are the best thing ever. Like, everyone's been trying to make me quit smokin' since I was fourteen. And I'm down to a pack a week and you didn't even try to make me stop! That's how good you are. You're not disappointing. You're literally the best thing in the world,"

"Stop," you said, pushing him in a play fight that escalated quickly. It was the movement that made you both painfully aware of your empty stomachs, your burnt out energy. "Wait! Van! Wait!" you yelled, he climbed off you and helped you sit up.

"What? Give up?" he asked, breathing hard.

"No, but I'm hungry. You hungry?"

You watched him literally stop to assess the situation. To feel what his body was telling him. "Fuck. Yeah. I am. Order pizza?"

"Nah. Let's go to that all you can eat place. Just get fucked up on food," you suggested. Van laughed. "Seriously. I'll drive and everything. Think of it as a thank you,"

"For what?" he asked, innocently forgetful.

"For the sex. And that thing you do with your hands. And being good. Whatever,"

"Ah," Van said. "I see. A combined thank you, then,"

"And what are you thanking me for?" you asked him, getting off the bed and pulling underwear and jeans on. You should have probably showered, but you both wanted, needed, food more than anything else.

"Being so beautiful. And being a good influence. All that. For hangin' around while I'm on tour and not just leaving, you know?"

"Is that what you're worried about?"

Van shrugged as he got up and started to get dressed too. It was a conversation for another time.

You sang songs to each other on the short drive to the restaurant. You paid for the both of you, and watched as Van ate his way through the entire buffet. "One of everythin', innit," he had said with a huge grin on his face. It was the first time in a while that you'd over-eaten and it felt good. It felt healthy and balanced. 

As Van went to refill your soft drink glasses and you went to pile a couple of plates high with the dessert options, you thought about how different you looked in that moment compared to when you first met Van. No makeup. Jeans and an old shirt. The best part was that Van loved you the same. Not more or less like that.

"I like this mousse," Van said with his mouthful of it.

Nodding in agreement, you replied with, "And I like you."


End file.
